The next morning before the break of dawn, Melchoir wakes lazily, their act of coupling still heavy in his mind. When he does he expects to see her still curled up underneath him but she’s gone.
His breaths come to him in short heaves, panicking as she used to. The thought that he calmed her to the point of sleep made him wonder if she went out with it. Anxiety overwhelms his senses, his breath fills his lungs deeply, ready to roar loud enough to rip this world into shreds to find his mate, his love, but as it fills to the brim and is ready to escape, he feels a small, warm something touch his leg.
His eyes showed a rage unlike any other he’d felt before. They were bulged and ready to annihilate the very thing that had touched him, been in her space, but then softened immediately when
